Kitten Dispenser Stories
by I am Best
Summary: A collection of requested short stories: 1. Grell/Agni 2. Sieglinde & Ran Mao 3. Edward/Sieglinde 4. William/Undertaker 5.
1. Third Wheel

I'm taking gen and rarepair fic requests over on my writing blog kittendispenser . tumblr, and this was one such request! As always, I'm open to comments and critique.

* * *

Grelle looked entirely too comfortable curled up in the windowsill of the earl's townhouse, painting her nails a predictable, if garish, red. She barely even glanced in Sebastian's direction when he and the young master walked into the room.

"Are you ill?" Sebastian asked.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ciel added.

Like a cat who deigned to seek affection, Grelle took her time getting up from the sill to slink between the two of them. Mindful of her wet nails, she draped herself across Sebastian, but her heart wasn't in it. He didn't even bother to shrug her off.

"Oh, Bassy," she sighed. "I'm in love. And not with you. I have found a better man."

"There's no one better than me. Objectively. Being a Phantomhive butler, I am the best."

Grelle was about to question that line of logic, but was interrupted by a familiar, excited chirp of a voice.

"I see you've met Agni's new friend!" Soma said, flinging himself into the room and into the conversation. "Isn't she lovely? She's so exotic."

"You can't just invite strangers into my house."

Grelle gasped and released Sebastian to pout at Ciel. "We're not strangers, little earl! Don't you remember me? I used to be your aunt's butler."

Ciel scowled at her in response.

"You were a butler as well? That's wonderful! You must all have so much in common." Soma clapped his hands and pulled Ciel toward the seats. "Agni's making me lunch. Perhaps your butler and Grelle would like to go tell him to prepare extra?"

Grelle gladly slipped out of the room, waving her fingers back and forth to get them to dry faster. Sebastian followed at a slower pace.

She stopped in the hall, waited for him to catch up.

"Well?" Sebastian prompted.

"It was so romantic! It was almost four months ago, a day with one of those rare snows that weren't ruined by all the coal dust and carriage traffic. I had just finished my last reap, so was window shopping some bakeries. Invisible, of course. Then this man sees me, Bassy. _He sees me._ Ah, it must have been fate!" Grelle pressed her hands to her cheeks and wriggled like a streamer in barely-suppressed excitement.

"So I hear this man ask, 'Miss, are you hungry?' and I turn around to see six feet of sexy. The only thing I can think to say is 'I think you're a little out of my price range.' Either he didn't get it, or he thought it was cute. I'm not really sure which, but somehow Agni wound up buying me a tartlet, introducing me to the prince, and inviting me into this lovely townhouse. As one does. I forgot it was the brat's, but by the time I realized, I'd become a fixture. It would have been awkward to say something at that point. And here we are."

"He mistook you for a homeless woman. An understandable error due to your general dishevelment."

"Yes. And here we are," Grelle repeated, beginning to walk again. "Regardless of how we got here. Agni, my dear! We have company!" she sang out.

Agni glanced up, then wiped his hands on the towel flung over his shoulder. "Mr Sebastian! What a pleasant surprise. I'm to take it Earl Phantomhive is with you, as well?" Sebastian nodded. "I will have to prepare more. Miss Grelle, you don't have to do anything – the kitchen is no place for a guest. So please, make yourself comfortable with the others, and I'll bring you something."

Grelle played with a lock of hair, looking almost as if she wanted to object. But then Agni leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple, and she giggled her way out of the kitchen.

"That's not a woman," Sebastian said as soon as Grelle was far enough away to not attack him. He doubted she'd told Agni about her reaperhood, despite that she wasn't hiding behind a human guise this time.

"No, I guessed as much. I suspect she might be an avatar of my goddess, Kali." The way he said it suggested that he was simply commenting on their similarities, but while that had not been what Sebastian meant at all, it made a certain sort of sense. Wild and fanged, clearly inhuman. The tongue thing.

Agni smiled vaguely, thinking the same about Grelle. She was certainly _something_. A god incarnate wasn't too far off so far as guesses went. "How fortunate I am to have found her, whatever she might be."

"You really love Grelle?" Sebastian asked. Love was an entirely foreign concept to him, except when it came to cats, and Grelle used the word often enough that it lost all value. But he'd never heard Agni express any sort of love but that of a servant for his prince.

"Yes, I believe so."

"She's incapable of love like a normal person," Sebastian said, thinking of Madam Red and every declaration Grelle had made toward him. "Grelle's more in love with violence than with people."

Agni smiled peaceably as he plated the food, and they made their way to their lords and lady. "I do not believe that is true, Mr Sebastian. Kali herself is a being of contradictions. She loves bloodshed and is full of wrath, but she is also a mother and wife. Do those not require love, as well?"

"I suppose…"

He dropped the topic as they entered the room. Grelle had returned to her windowsill, the rare English sun creating a fiery outline of her hair. Soma had convinced Ciel to play a game of chess with him, and it looked to be going as poorly as expected.

Sebastian handed Ciel his meal, then stood to the side and observed Grelle and Agni. He wasn't sure why the idea of them being in love sat so wrongly with him, but he refused to believe it despite what his eyes told him.

Agni knelt next to Grelle as she ate, bandaged hand resting on her knee. They occasionally spoke quietly to each other, but, for the most part, existed in amiable silence. The change was most noticeable with Grelle. She wasn't throwing herself at anyone, saying inappropriate things, or otherwise making a nuisance of herself.

Grelle soon excused herself because she did have work, and Agni saw her to the door. Out of view of the children, Agni caught her hand before she was able to leave.

"Restraint doesn't suit you," Agni said. " I didn't wish to bring it up in front of the prince, but is something the matter?"

"Well, I suppose Sebastian's told you all about me, so…"

"He's told me nothing I did not already suspect. While Mr Sebastian is – ah, how does he say it? One hell of a butler – he seems rather less well-versed in matters of love."

"Does that mean you're well-versed in matters of love?" she reflexively asked, grin making the question as inappropriate as possible.

"That's better," Agni said as he leaned down, fearlessly kissing Grelle despite the teeth that made her so feral-looking. Grelle wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, and there was nary a drop of blood between them when they broke apart.

Grelle licked her lips thoughtfully, then dragged Agni in for another. It wasn't often she got to properly kiss people, and it was even less often those few kisses she got didn't taste like sucking a penny.

"I really do have to go now," she said when they separated the smallest distance for air.

"Then perhaps you should let me go?" Agni suggested.

"Maybe _one_ more kiss."


	2. Witches and Fae

London still overwhelmed Sieglinde, and she was beginning to suspect it always would, especially when one kept the company of someone like Ciel Phantomhive. He just _knew_ so many people. People of all walks of life and from all over the world, and they always seemed to be coming and going in a whirl of languages Sieglinde was only just beginning to understand, or would likely never know.

She and Wolfram had for the time being been put up in his townhouse with the nice prince and his servant (who _never_ yelled at her or swatted her hands), and she'd befriended this great, grey beast that she was allowed to ride on. Poor Wolfram seemed sure it would eat her, but little girls weren't to its taste, she knew. Sometimes Sieglinde fed it treats that it picked out of her small hand with a surprising delicacy, using its leathery, prehensile nose.

But of all the creatures and people she'd met, Sieglinde found the cat lady most intriguing. She was different than the other women Ciel surrounded himself with, like Lizzie and that seamstress Nina. Her clothes were scandalous, her hair reminded Sieglinde of her own headdress, and her manners were completely absent – Sieglinde felt a sort of camaraderie because she was different, too. She didn't care for the man who was always with her, however, with his drugs and lazy attitude that spoke of someone who had others do his dirty work.

"Ran Mao, is that right?" she asked one day after inching toward her on wobbly, tender feet while the others spoke around her, excluding her. The cat lady turned her wide, golden eyes toward Sieglinde and gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Would you like to see my elephant?"

"Elephant?" Ran Mao repeated in that low, crawling tone of hers.

Sieglinde nodded. "It stands as tall as a house and can pick flowers with its nose." Ran Mao's lips twitched a little at that, and Sieglinde grinned like _she_ was the cat who'd caught the mouse.

Lau's hand came down lightly on Ran Mao's back, and she turned to look at him. "Go on, little sister."

"Okay." Ran Mao stood, and Sieglinde searched excitedly for Wolfram.

"Wolfram! I need you to – ack!" Her order was cut off as she found herself lifted into the air and perched in thin, strong arms. She instinctively clung to Ran Mao's neck. Wolfram looked as scared as Sieglinde, and had taken a few steps towards her to snatch her out of Ran Mao's arms.

"Don't worry!" Lau said in a voice that did nothing to assuage their worry, waving the large butler away. "Ran Mao's very strong. She won't drop your little mistress. I think." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, letting that last sentence peter out.

Sieglinde scowled at him and got herself more comfortable in Ran Mao's grasp. She smelled like incense and syrup, and now that Sieglinde wasn't so startled, she could feel the ease with which Ran Mao held her. She wouldn't drop her.

"This is amazing!" she said. "I didn't realize you were so strong."

"Elephant?" Ran Mao prompted.

"Oh, right. It's out that way. You stay out of trouble while I'm gone, Wolfram!"

Wolfram stopped trailing after and pouted like a puppy at Sieglinde until they were out the door.

* * *

"Are you Mr Lau's butler?" Sieglinde asked. "Like Wolfram is for me?" She clarified, since by all normal metrics, Wolfram was either not a butler, or a terrible one. If Ran Mao was a butler, she'd be more like him than Sebastian.

Ran Mao was handing flowers from the flower beds to the elephant, who took each one delicately, looked at it, then dropped it. Sieglinde wasn't sure what she was trying to do, but she was pleased Ran Mao seemed to like her elephant so.

"No," she said.

"Oh, well…. are you actually his little sister?"

"No." Ran Mao moved on to a collection of flowers in warm, sunset colours and began to hand them off to the elephant.

Sieglinde pouted, having not expected to be replaced by the elephant in Ran Mao's attentions. "Can I help?"

Ran Mao glanced up, and Sieglinde immediately smiled. It grew bigger as Ran Mao stood and came over to pick her up before gently depositing Sieglinde in front of her own bush to de-flower. She chuckled to herself over that bit of English punning, then got to work. Ran Mao was already completely focused on her own flowers.

"Lizzie taught me how to make flower crowns," Sieglinde said when the silent, steady work got to be too much. "Do you know how to make them?"

Ran Mao sat back on her heels, looking up at nothing in particular, then shook her head. "How?"

Sieglinde searched through the nearby flowers until she came across some longer-stemmed ones, and she began with those. Ran Mao settled in beside her to watch.

Sieglinde explained each step as she worked, though it was really just the same step – braiding – over and over again. She didn't know how much English Ran Mao actually understood, but the older girl was rapt. When Sieglinde finished, she stretched up and popped it on Ran Mao's head.

"There! You look like a fairy."

Ran Mao reached up and touched the crown with both hands, but didn't try to remove it. "Fairy," she echoed.

"Would you like to try?" Sieglinde held out two handfuls of flowers, already sorted.

Ran Mao took the flowers, then turned around, leaving Sieglinde to stare at her back. Whatever she was doing, she was doing quickly, with far more movements than the crown required.

Sieglinde pushed herself to her knees and crawled closer to peek over Ran Mao's shoulder. Ran Mao shifted, keeping her actions secret.

"Hey!" Sieglinde said when she did it again. "What are you doing?"

When Ran Mao didn't answer, Sieglinde sat back with an irritated huff. She'd wanted Ran Mao to like her, but Sieglinde could barely get a word out of her, if she wasn't being outright ignored. Maybe Wolfram would hear if she yelled for him to come get her and bring her back inside.

Before Sieglinde could really commit to that course of action, Ran Mao turned around again and dropped something onto her head. Sieglinde froze as Ran Mao considered it, then adjusted something on the crown. Several flowers dangled in front of Sieglinde's face and tickled her cheeks and nose.

When Ran Mao had decided it was done, Sieglinde took the crown off to look at it. She turned it around in her hands, examining the knotwork and design. Somehow Ran Mao had taken her simple, braided circlet design and turned it into a crown proper.

"It's lovely! How did you do it?"

"'m good with knots," Ran Mao said with a modest shrug. While she wasn't exactly smiling at the praise, her expression seemed softer than it normally did, and those were more words strung together than Sieglinde had ever heard her say.

"We should make one for the elephant! And Wolfram! He'd look so funny with one of these."

They worked diligently on crowns not just for the elephant and Wolfram, but everyone else Sieglinde could think of and plenty extra just in case. Following Ran Mao's lead, her own work grew from lopsided tangled up messes (that one was for Wolfram) to pretty and intricate headdresses. Though they didn't talk, the two fell into an easy rhythm of swapping flowers, holding bunches in place, adding to and adjusting each others' work.

By the time anyone thought to check on them, the garden was in disarray, but the elephant looked beautiful.

The next time Sieglinde saw Ran Mao, the cat lady had a familiar, if now battered and dried out, flower crown still sitting on her head.


	3. Propriety

A/N: This one's some innocent Edward/Sieglinde. Sieglinde's so fun to write.

* * *

"Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford," Sieglinde said, one hand on her hip, the other pointing dramatically.

Lizzie looked up from her book and clapped. "There was barely an accent! Wonderful! You know, Auntie Anne had a butler who couldn't even get half-way through, and he _was_ English." Sieglinde deflated a little, and Lizzie realized that had been leading up to some grand proclamation. She set down the book and turned, adjusting her skirts, to listen attentively. "Oh, excuse me! Do continue."

Sieglinde cleared her throat and straightened her stance. "Is Edward betrothed?"

"Edward? You mean, my brother Edward? No. Or at least not that _I've_ heard." Lizzie would have been the first to know, by Edward's own mouth, if his status had changed.

Sieglinde's serious expression gave way to a grin far too big for her face.

"Do you fancy my brother, Sieglinde?" Lizzie asked. She wasn't sure how to take that information, but it wasn't Ciel, at least.

The younger girl giggled coquettishly. "Perhaps a little. He's just so…." She trailed off, reaching for the word in English. Lizzie waited with bated breath. She loved her brother, but couldn't really see anything romantically attractive about him. "Stoic."

"Stoic?"

"Oh, yes. He's quite the man, isn't he? Very principled. I can see it in how he practices that game of yours, those muscles rippling–"

"I think I understand," Lizzie interrupted. Sieglinde did always seem a little mature for her age, and the last thing Lizzie wanted to do was think about anything rippling on her brother. But she was proud he was held in such high regard by Sieglinde, and found nothing wrong with the rest of her observations. Edward was the best man Lizzie knew, aside from their father.

Sieglinde sighed dreamily, looking off into some middle distance. She'd only ever known Wolfram for most of her life, and he was just a Wolfram. Ciel was clever, but delicate, and spoken for. Edward was a _man_. "What sort of lady do you suppose he likes? Oh, wait, there he is!"

Before Lizzie could say anything about the next, very ill-advised course of action, Sieglinde was up and hobbling over to Edward who had a tray of snacks in his hand. When he saw how fast she was going, he set down the tray and swooped to catch her as she over-balanced, crutches clattering to the ground.

Sieglinde gasped and wrapped her arms around his neck. "My hero!"

At Edward's blush, Lizzie made note to talk to Sieglinde about propriety. More particularly the act of flinging herself into men's arms. She stood and retrieved the tray for Edward before both walked back to the seats where Edward struggled to disengage Sieglinde from himself.

Once free, he quickly stepped back, righting his collar. Sieglinde was looking at him as though he held the stars themselves in his eyes.

Lizzie coughed lightly to break the silence. "Why are you bringing us snacks, Edward? Wasn't Paula or one of the others able to?"

Edward blinked as though the idea of a servant doing a servant's job hadn't occurred to him. "It wasn't any bother, since I was coming out here anyway to keep you company. Then when I heard Ms Sieglinde was here, I had to come say hello."

"Hello!" Sieglinde said. "You can join us! Sit here!" She scooched over and patted the space next to her.

"Sieglinde," Lizzie said calmly. "Edward should sit on his own chair. It's only _proper_ ," she added pointedly. Sieglinde made an expression of understanding – Edward liked _proper_ – and scrutinized Lizzie before she straightened and folded her hands in her lap like the older girl. Lizzie made sure to sit as correctly as she could, so Sieglinde could continue copying her.

Edward had to let a small smile appear as Sieglinde adjusted herself. It was good to see Lizzie with a friend, and being such a good influence on the somewhat feral child Ciel had dropped into their lives. It was hard on Lizzie being special, unable to really connect to other girls who never had to take up a sword. Sieglinde was special, too, though Edward didn't pretend to know exactly in what way, and she and Lizzie got along better than any girls she'd had playdates with before. Mother had all but adopted Sieglinde and her poor, poor butler with how often they were visiting.

Edward wasn't anything like them, wasn't special in any way, but he'd played spectator to his sister long enough to know both had dark, dangerous lives ahead of them. He was just happy Lizzie was happy – that the girls had each other.

Lizzie picked up her book and began telling Edward about it. He leaned forward and listened attentively. It was something Sieglinde had already read, and she'd been so excited about it that her last letter to Lizzie was about almost nothing but the book. So, of course, Lizzie had to read it herself before Sieglinde came to visit, and had Edward ever read it?

As they talked, Sieglinde was careful to only take a sandwich when Lizzie did, to only nibble at it like Lizzie did. Now that she thought she knew what he liked, she found herself unable to look directly at Edward because every time she did she'd begin to giggle, and Lizzie would giggle at her response, and they had to say "it was just something in the story, you would have to read it to understand" when Edward looked befuddled.

They moved on to other topics, and soon Sieglinde and Edward were animatedly discussing science – or trying to, at least. Many of the words Sieglinde knew weren't in English or even the proper terms in German. She certainly couldn't call her chemistry witchcraft, here. Lizzie had to move over and sit beside her to help work through some of the tougher words. Sieglinde had been teaching her German, and between the three of them they managed to have a falling out Lizzie wasn't quite sure she even understood.

Edward excused himself somewhat stiffly, taking with him the now barren plate, and Sieglinde said loudly to Lizzie, loud enough to carry, "I cannot believe he thinks aether theory is or has ever been valid!" Then, as soon as Edward was gone, she grabbed both of Lizzie's hands in her own. "I'm so sorry you have an ignoramus for a brother."

Lizzie looked a little askance at Sieglinde knowing the word ignoramus but not knowing aether until just now.

"Does that mean you don't fancy Edward anymore?"

Sieglinde laughed, all traces of her anger gone like a cloud that had simply passed in front of the sun. "Hah! No. Ignorance can be fixed, dear future sister-in-law, and I think he might be worth making the effort."

"Oh," Lizzie said. She would have to give Edward some warning next time Sieglinde was visiting. Or enough time to hide, at least.


	4. A Dinghy, Not a Ship

A/N: I'm sorry. I have no actual title for this one, just a snide remark at my shipping skills. They're not quite as on the ball for Will/UT, so this is more of a pre-ship than ship fic.

* * *

"Get back in there," William said, pointing at the icy water currently bubbling with the undead with his scythe. They weren't trying to attack the reapers, though the movements keeping them afloat caused the small boat William had commandeered to rock dangerously.

Grell sat on the edge pulling seaweed out of her hair. Ronald had taken an oar and was pushing a doll he'd grown especially attached to around as it tried to get away. They'd given the gist of what had happened though neither were in any sort of way to go more in-depth. Not that that elicited any sympathy.

William cleared his throat and both looked up.

"Wi-ill," Grell whinged. "It's cold and I'm wet and I'm bleeding."

"Perfect conditions to get back in, right, Senior?" Ronald abandoned his sport to go over to Grell. "Except for the blood part. Are there sharks here?"

Grell's eyes widened in either horror or delight at the idea, but she didn't get a chance to say which before Ronald shoved her in with a laugh. He gave a half-hearted salute to William before jumping after.

"How unprofessional," William groused to himself.

"I know, right? They just don't make 'em like they used to!"

He was over to the far side of the boat before he even registered who had spoken, scythe held defensively in front of him. William searched for this new voice that crackled with laughter. He shuddered. The sound reminded him of Grell.

A man with silver hair, a large grin, and the tell-tale eyes of a reaper was peeking over the edge of the boat at him. Fingers with long, black nails gripped the wood.

"Mind helping me up, old chap?" the reaper said.

William extended his scythe and hefted the man into the boat. He was nothing but sodden, silver hair and black clothes, and all the heavier for it. William dropped him into the boat and brought his scythe around, blade open and hovering just under the man's chin. Infuriatingly, he kept smiling.

"I had presumed you to be smart man, deserter. You could have been long gone by now."

"And yet here I am. I just wanted to see how things are done nowadays. That redhead of yours is quite the handful."

"Don't I know it," William mumbled, before adjusting his grip on his scythe. There would be no bonding with the deserter. "Since you have turned yourself over into my custody, I'll be…" He trailed off, not sure what to do with the deserter. He was _management_ , not retrieval (usually), and certainly not retrieval of a deserter.

"You'll be letting me go because there's literally no way to bring me in unless I want to be brought in?" the deserter offered.

"Shut up, deserter, or I'll just bring in your head," William snapped.

The deserter cackled. Ugh, just like Grell. What was it with _their_ kind and laughter? Did they not know the meaning of the word grim?

"People call me Undertaker. What do they call you?"

William's scythe clicked as it retracted. If this man had given Grell as well as that demon trouble, he wasn't going to win any fights on a dinghy. Despite him being a deserter, William already found him more amiable than that demon, so wouldn't start one.

He presented his card, which Undertaker held very, very close to his face to read.

"William T. Spears, Management, eh?" He pocketed the card. _Much_ more amiable than Sebastian. "What's the T stand for?"

"Irrelevant. You are in direct violation of all heavenly mandates. You will turn yourself in, and I'm sure you'll be treated fairly."

"You should ask – what the name? – Grell Sutcliff how fairly we get treated by our own. Life's not fair, death's not fair…." He trailed off and reached over the edge of the boat to gently brush the wet, clinging hair from the face of one of the dolls. His expression was sad as he contemplated the gnashing teeth, the fingers clawing at his arm. "Even undeath isn't fair. Not yet, at least."

William watched him silently, not sure what to make of this sudden morose attitude. He could attack now while Undertaker was distracted. He didn't even have his scythe out. It would be quick work.

Instead, William said, "Whatever issue you have with your lot in the afterlife, you shouldn't be tampering with the lives of humans."

All sadness vanished as Undertaker sat back. His eyes were feverishly bright, more so even than the normal glow.

"What law have I broken by using what _you_ lot throw away?"

"Well, to begin–"

"If you truly cared about humanity," Undertaker continued like William hadn't spoken. "You wouldn't watch their records then throw them out like yesterday's paper. You would cherish them." His hand rested over his heart, as though something was supposed to be there. "You would love them."

"Love has no place in our job."

Undertaker frowned, the expression odd on his face, like his scars weren't meant to stretch that way. Without warning, he grabbed William's tie and pulled him down to his level. His other hand snatched away his glasses, and William froze. He couldn't even bring himself to breathe, lest something happen to them.

Undertaker scrutinized him.

"Has anyone ever told you how cold your eyes are? You're like a demon."

Suddenly, William was free. But Undertaker still had his glasses, leaving William to squint uselessly at the blur that was the deserter.

Undertaker held them up in front of his own eyes, backwards, and blinked owlishly through them. William knew he had to have had spectacles at some point, so was doing this only to mock him. The deserter didn't say anything more.

While normally he prayed daily for some quiet, this was one that left him to his thoughts, and William wasn't liking what he was thinking. It was silent between them, with only the slap of water against wood, the moans and distant screams of humans to remind William the world was still turning.

Finally, he couldn't stand it and held out his hand for his glasses. As soon as they were placed in his hand, he slid them back onto his face. Everything was immediately a little better but for one, nagging issue.

"What do you mean, like a demon?"

Undertaker grinned. "Demons don't love, demons don't care about humans. They only care about souls. The more discerning ones like our Mr Michaelis even judge them worthy or not. Let them live and grow into a feast, or let them die."

"I'm not a demon."

"So you say. And you might be right. You were human once. But what happened to that? Where did your humanity go?" Undertaker caught Will's gaze, and William realized he could see without his glasses. Or at least enough to make eye-contact. His eyes didn't have that alien, feline look of Sutcliff's, or the casual near-apathy of Knox.

This wasn't lip service justifying some grand, malevolent scheme. Undertaker actually _cared_ , like he thought William didn't.

"I care about humans," William said. He had no reason to explain himself to this deserter, but something in him wanted Undertaker to know. This was a man with convictions, and despite that they stood on opposing sides, William understood what Undertaker meant. And he was wrong about William. "That's why I can't let love or any other emotion get in the way of my job. Every person deserves a fair judgement." He remembered a mansion burning, letting the demon go because there were souls to reap. Souls he let die. "Personal biases – emotions – make things unfair. I have to judge the perpetrator with the same eyes I judge the victim. I'm sorry that we can't take the records, but do not think I've forgotten a single one. If even one person is allowed to live because of my judgements, I will be happy knowing it was justly deserved. That it was _fair_."

Undertaker's eyes widened, and it took him a moment to form a response. "That's why they've put you in management."

"I'm sorry?"

"I've misjudged you. You're not cold. You're just too good a man, so they've moved you from the field. They can't control a good man when he starts to see the wrongness around him."

William cleared his throat awkwardly at the praise. Nobody ever said that about him, not in promotion meetings nor reviews nor office gossip. He was just doing his job as best he could, and he knew it wasn't perfect but he was, as Undertaker had said, human. He'd never been called good, before.

"You know what? I like you. If you ever need anything, I have a little shop in Paris. Nobody knows about it." Undertaker tapped his nose. Nobody except Will, now. It was his choice. "But I can't teleport well this far out, so hope you don't mind."

"Mind what?"

"This." Undertaker was suddenly by William's side, scooping him into his arms. William hugged his scythe like a security blanket at the contact. "It's good to know there's a man like you on the inside," Undertaker said before flinging him overboard.

When William surfaced Undertaker was already rowing away. He waved one of the oars in the air to catch William's attention and yelled, "Bye, Bill!"

William spit out a mouthful of salt water and glared at Undertaker's retreating figure. _Bill?_ That was almost enough for him to want tell the higher ups about the Paris shop. Almost.

He needed to do some research first, but William suspected he would be making a trip to Paris in the near future.


End file.
